Dax's Backstory
¡¡¡UNDER CONSTRUCTION!!! The Origin of Dax Stormslayer Childhood I was born simply Dax (our village did not use surnames) in the small western island town of Tsunami, so named for the freak wave that claimed the entire town having previously existed on those shores. When they rebuilt the town, they wisely chose to move inland a safer distance, and rebuilt everything in the treetops. Obviously, the docks and the like were still at sea level, but there wasn't much that could be done about that. Like most western island towns, we had little in the way of resources. Mostly just fish, kelp and timber -- rather low-profit and requiring long days of back-breaking work, just to get by. We did--however, have one resource that was quite profitable to some: hard workers. Pirate ships would occasionally stop at our island to fill holes in their crews. Many ships would pay good money for willing, able crewman. Many others, apparently less scrupulous than their brethren, preferred to take us as slaves. This is the fate my father, Dirk, met when I was no more than a babe at my mother's bosom. Thus, my mother, Elanoa, and I toiled on alone, forcing me to work ever the harder as I grew up, always trying to fill my father's considerably larger shoes. As I matured far more rapidly than my peers, I began to feel out of sync with the childish antics and games my friends found such enjoyment in. It seemed silly to me, when there was so much to be done. So I began to harden, stoically accepting the lot that life had dealt me, learning from an early age that emotions were to be kept to one's self. There were more important matters at hand. My mother, needless to say, was growing concerned by my apparent denial of my own childhood, and began to consider that perhaps a father figure was what I needed. Now my mother was a very beautiful woman, widely coveted by the men of the village and envied by the women. She'd certainly had no shortage of suitors over the years, but the grief she felt at the loss of my father had been too great, and she invariably sent them all packing. But now, she elected to set aside her own feelings in favor of my ultimate well-being. Elated at her sudden change of heart, the bachelors of the village lined up outside her door like begging dogs. She gave them all a chance, but after failure upon failure, it became clear to her that a degree of unavoidable island inbreeding had affected the relative intelligence of the men of the island, and, disgusted, she gave up once more. Meanwhile, I was having zero luck in the relationship department myself. Having recently reached the first stages of puberty, my body was a raging mess of hormones and teenage angst. Needless to say, this didn't exactly help my emotional issues. But I found release in the form of work and, more recently, I had begun to show an interest in the martial arts. Nothing else offered me such satisfaction. I began to try to teach myself to fight, absorbing new information and techniques wherever possible, vowing that, should the marauders return again, they would not take me or my mother without a fight. Naturally, living in the treetops forces one to learn to be nimble very quickly, and over many generations, this began to have a marked effect on the villagers. Boredom led to contests of speed, agility, and hunting prowess, specially tailored to our treetop lifestyle. Our village even began to develop a fledgling martial art, when one especially skilled, mysterious newcomer by the name of Darius started a dojo, and began accepting students. Thrilled, I eagerly signed up. Darius Darius was a stern, but kindly, man, and an exceptional teacher. His students all respected him, and learned eagerly and quickly, my self included. In fact, everyone on the island had nothing but the utmost respect for this fine, upstanding gentleman. So much so, that no one ever really thought to question where he had come from so suddenly, and how he came to be so skilled. As our training wore on, I began to show exemplary progress, moving through his relatively new program almost quicker than he could develop it. It quickly became apparent that I was far ahead of the rest of his pupils, and rather than allow my progress to stagnate, he decided to pull me out of the main class and train me one-on-one, as a sort of apprentice. One day, Darius told me that it was time for me to learn to use weapons. I was incredulous. I didn't even know there were any more weapons on our island than the simple axes and machetes we used as tools. But when Darius showed me into his personal sanctum, my jaw nearly hit the floor. The room itself was nothing particularly special, save for the almost eerie quality of mystery the dim torchlight cast upon it. It was the weapons that floored me. All around the roughly circular room were racks upon racks of every weapon imaginable, most of which I couldn't even identify in my extremely limited experience. Axes, swords, clubs, maces, even bigger swords, spears, bows, swords so big I didn't see how they could even be lifted, and a myriad other things I couldn't have begun to guess at. One weapon in particular caught my eye. It just looked like some chain, with an iron weight at either end. I asked Darius about it, and he told me it was a fighting chain. Unimpressed, I asked how on earth could THAT be an effective weapon. But I soon ate my words as he picked it off the rack and began to demonstrate. It was beautiful. Darius' graceful spinning movements belied the force the chain possessed. The whirling weights made matchsticks of four training dummies in a matter of seconds. I stood entranced with the apparent ease with which he wielded such a complicated looking weapon. As he spun them to a stop, I could only stand there, slackjawed, as he chuckled merrily in his deep chest at my reaction. From that point on, I was obsessed. No matter how many other weapons Darius tried to teach me to use, I always wanted to go back to the chains. Eventually, recognizing my eagerness as potential, he gave in. I learned extremely quickly, the complicated series of movements and patterns coming to me as easily as swimming to a fish. Soon, I was nearly a match for Darius, the strain of dodging and parrying my flurries of blows evident on his face. While I was sweeping and dusting the sanctum one day, I noticed another chain weapon tucked away in a corner of the room. It was a beautiful golden fighting chain, of obviously-superior craftsmanship. Oddly, though, on one end it had a large wide knife, or perhaps a small sword, about two and a half feet long and about six-inches wide. One side had a gently curved, razor sharp blade, the other side had three wicked-looking, recurved teeth. It had a stout, one-handed hilt on it, with a small recess about the size of an egg, that looked as if it used to hold a gem of some sort. At the other end of about ten feet of heavy chain, was a weight similar to that on a fighting chain, but studded with small, stout spikes on the end and with a hilt much like on the sword end, but without a recess in it. It was an entrancingly beautiful weapon, with it's intricately carved scrollwork on the blade and the golden, almost firey sheen to the metal. I was still admiring it when Darius came in to check on me. As soon as he saw the weapon in my hand he rushed over, grabbed it, and stashed it away in a chest at my feet. He told me never to speak of that weapon to anyone, but when I pressed him, he refused to say any more about it and hurried me out of the room. When I looked for it again, several days later, it was gone. Eventually, Darius had me teaching my own classes. Groups of my friends and peers, many my age or older, began to learn the fighting chain from me, with Darius serving as a mere supervisor. Soon, after I had earned my students respect as well, Darius would leave altogether, to teach some other class at the ever-growing dojo. During my time as Darius' apprentice, we became very close. I began to look to him as a sort of father figure, and he began to think of me like a son. My mother was no fool, and noticed right away. She began to invite Darius over for dinner with us, he having lost his own family many years ago to pirates. Well, I was no fool either, and I could see the bond between them quickly developing, as well. Though I frequently missed my own father, I could not have been happier about the bright new turn life seemed to be taking for me. However, like all good things, it was not to last. Bloody Revelation One day, as I awoke to begin my daily chores, I immediately sensed that something was very wrong. It was silent. Deadly silent. This high up in the trees, the birds and monkeys are always making a ruckus. Today, there was no sound at all. Throwing some clothing on as fast as I could, I stepped outside and immediately saw, to my horror, that the morning sky was a deep, bloody crimson. The wind was beginning to pick up, and I knew right away that we were in for the storm of our lives. I raced as fast as I could down the wooden walkways to Darius' hut. I awoke Darius and showed him the sky. He turned a shade of pale usually reserved for cadavers and immediately ran towards the Elder's hut. Confused and scared, I followed after him. When we got there, he hurriedly told me to wait outside and disappeared within before I could protest. Several tense moments later, they both burst out and began running toward the town hall. Getting tired of the back and forth, but too winded with running to speak, I simply ran after them. When they got to the town hall, they began to sound the alarm, a huge horn carved out of driftwood. The deep, bass tone reverberated through the village and almost immediately, frightened faces appeared in windows and doorways, many still in their nightclothes. As the village gathered, I demanded to know what was going on. Darius knelt down and looked me straight in the eyes. I had never seen so much fear in those deep, dark, usually jolly eyes. In a trembling voice, he told me, "Sikunare is coming." I can only remember, the next few hours as a blur of panic and confusion as the entire village tried to prepare to face the storm mother's fury. But there was little we could do. The able-bodied among us donned what little armor we could scrounge up, and readied our weapons for what would likely be our last battle. Darius seemed to have been elected general of our ragtag force, and he did his best to allay our fears and organize us, but we knew it was no use. You could see it in the eyes of every man, woman, and child. Somehow, we had incurred Sikunare's wrath, and we were doomed. For as long as anyone could remember, tales of the woe and destruction that Sikunare left in her wake had been related in hushed tones around the campfire. Children were warned that Sikunare would come in the night and take them away if they were naughty. Many good sailors had been lost at sea to her tantrums, and many beautiful mothers and daughters had been abducted for her, never to be seen again. But never had anyone heard of her attacking land, only ships at sea. A few began to question this, wondering what we were so worried about. They quickly dropped the subject when reminded of the bloody sky. Every sailor with half a brain knew that a red sky at morning meant trouble was coming, in the worst way. At some point during the chaos, Darius turned me aside and told me, "I want you to have this." He pressed a rolled up piece of parchment into my hand. I unrolled it, and discovered with some confusion that it was a map, with a red X out in the middle of the ocean, somewhat northeast of our island. Puzzled, I looked up at my ever more mysterious mentor. "It will be very useful someday. Don't ever lose it." With that he hurried off to continue helping with the war effort. Too dazed to follow or question him, I stared at it a moment longer, then pocketed it and continued on. By the time the storm arrived, the women and children had been sequestered in a cave far inland, led by my mother. We men had gathered just inside the treeline at the beach and were awaiting our fate. We did not have long to wait. Soon enough, a trio of tornadoes, twisting in and around each other like some kind of immensely destructive snakes, swirled up to the beach and came to a halt. Appearing out of the mist behind them came a colossal black ship, its sails tattered and worn, its hull full of holes. Despite the apparent disrepair of the ship, it seemed thoroughly sea-worthy and scudded forcefully up onto the beach beside the twisters. Its deck was clearly brimming with eager marauders, cutlasses and bows bristling above their heads. They appeared to be yelling, but almost no sound made it through the roar of the storm. Then, terrifyingly, the twisters spoke: "I AM SIKUNARE, SSTORM MOTHER OF THE WESSTERN SEASS." The booming, though oddly sibilant voice seemed to fill our heads, almost to bursting. "I HAVE COME TO DEMAND TRIBUTE TO MY GREATNESSS. OBEY, AND YOUR PEOPLE SSHALL BE SSPARED. DO NOT, AND I WILL RAZE YOUR VILLAGE, ENSSLAVE YOUR MEN, TORTURE YOUR WOMEN, AND EAT YOUR BABIESS. ISS THAT CLEAR? NOW, BRING ME YOUR WOMEN AND CHILDREN." One particularly brave soul stood and screamed back. It was Darius. "Never, you hideous wretch! I'd sooner die than bow to you!" Sikunare sighed, a deeply horrifying sound to come from a tornado. "SSO BE IT." At that, one of the twisters reached out sinuously and picked up a large chunk of driftwood, as long as a man and half as wide. It hoisted it into the air, and then, quicker than the eye could see, threw it like an enormous spear right at Darius. But, in a blur of motion, Darius rolled to the side of it, produced from apparently nowhere the same golden fighting chain that I had seen before, and in a whirl of singing golden metal, chopped the log into kindling. He turned to face Sikunare, and in a bellow of rage, announced, "I am Darius Stormslayer, Chosen of the Elemental Dragon of Water and an Emissary of Perfect Water! I was sent here years ago to protect this island from the likes of you! You're not getting the boy, not while I yet live! Now, BEGONE FOUL HAG!!!" As he screamed, his hands and arms began to glow with a blueish-black light. At the word "begone", he slammed his fists together in front of him, and the light exploded toward the Storm Mother in a thick bolt of energy resembling a torrent of water. It slammed into the center of the maelstrom and tore a hole right through it, exploding out the other side before fading out. Darius fell to his knees in obvious exhaustion. The Storm Mother screamed in agony, shaking the very ground we crouched upon, trembling in fear and confusion. We had never seen or heard of anything like this before on our humble island. "INSSSOLENT CUR! I'LL FEED YOUR CHARRED BONESS TO MY DOGSSS! LET'S SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!" Darius, weakened as he was from from his attack, had little he could do to avoid the the screaming bolt of lightning that rocketed toward him. He merely stood to meet his fate with dignity. It hit him square in the chest, exploding through him and melting the beach behind him into a pool of boiling glass. My mentor's smoking remains crumpled into a twisted heap where he had stood, only a few yards from the treeline where the rest of us had been waiting. "ANY MORE FOOLSS CARE TO CHALLENGE ME?" She waited, as if expecting a response. "GOOD. SCOURGE OF THE CRIMSON TIDE, IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND AS TO BRING ME THE MOST BEAUTIFUL OF THE WOMEN AND THEIR BABIESS. HAVE YOUR FUN IF YOU LIKE, BUT I WANT THEM ALIVE. YOU MAY DO AS YOU WISH WITH THE RESST, INCLUDING THE BOY YOU SEEK. HE IS OF NO USE TO ME. ENJOY." As she cackled the last few words, the twisters turned and sped back out to sea. But, no sooner had she left than ladders and ropes came rolling down the sides of the monstrous black ship, and the bloodthirsty crew began to pour off the ship and run up the beach, shouting and brandishing their crude, bloodstained weapons. I and the other villagers realized that our troubles were far from past us, and began to run back through the forest in a vain attempt to escape. We were doomed. We were trapped on an island in the middle of the western seas, with our only escape route blocked, and our boats being set on fire even as we ran inland. I quickly sprinted over to Darius' smoldering corpse and grabbed his golden bladed chain. Oddly, there was a smile of contentment on his face, as if he knew what was yet to come on this fateful day, and knew his death meant nothing but his own eternal rest at last. Puzzled, but too concerned with the hordes of marauders charging up the beach towards us to waste another second, I turned and ran after my panicked village. I ran on, spurred by fear, but unsure of my destination. Sunrise I ran and ran, having decided to find the cave where the women and children were hiding, while the crashing and yelling of the marauders was getting closer and closer behind. When I found the cave, I was greeted by the never-more-welcome sight of my mother's face poking out from the shadows, machete in hand, ready to defend her charges at all cost. I ducked and rolled into the low opening, pulling my mother in with me just as a flaming arrow splattered against the rocks where she had just been. We retreated to the shadows and huddled in fear and dread anticipation. My mother began to ask me what was going on, but I hushed her and everyone else. Any sound might betray our position, which would be our death. We watched as the marauders set fire to our beloved forest, weeping silently. My mother held me as I softly wept in her arms, and she wept in my violet hair. There was nothing we could do but hope we weren't discovered, and hope was running thin today. The terror and the destruction was taking its toll on morale, and many of the refugees' eyes began to show a glimmer of panic. Suddenly one especially frail and senile old man started screaming in sheer terror and ran blindly out of the cave. He was immediately struck in the chest with a flaming arrow, crumpling in a heap just outside the cave mouth. His clothing burst into flame, and his body was consumed in fire, providing a clear beacon of our cave's location. The yelling was getting closer now, and we knew we were discovered. Suddenly, a hideous, scarred face appeared at the cave mouth, grinning evilly with all seven yellowed, broken teeth. As he attempted to climb in the cave mouth, my mother hefted her machete and hacked him in the face until he stopped moving. She stood panting for a moment, examining her gruesome handiwork with obvious disgust. But as she did so, a massive hand wearing evil-looking black gauntlets with faces that twisted about on the surface, screaming audibly, reached in and grabbed my mother by the ankle, dragging her out of the cave and holding her aloft, by the foot, examining her. The owner of the hand spoke in a deep, whispering, evil voice that sounded like dry bones rattling together in a cold ocean gale: "Yes. This one will do quite nicely. Take her to the ship, and throw her in the hold with Sikunare's other trophies." With that, he punched my mother in the head, knocking her cold. He dropped her unceremoniously to the ground, and she was quickly collected by a lackey and carried off. White-hot rage boiled up inside of me. "NNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" I screamed in agony as I grabbed Darius' chain and rolled out of the cave mouth to face this coward who beat defenseless mothers. As I did, however, Scourge of the Crimson Tide grabbed me by the neck and lifted me up to eye level to have a look at me, my feet dangling nearly three feet off the ground. He was a imposing monster of a man, standing nearly seven feet tall and wearing gleaming black armor made of the same twisting, screaming metal as his gauntlets. His face was a network of scars, and one eye was missing entirely, but rather than an eye patch where the eye should have been, there was simply an open, black pit, looking for all the world like a portal into his empty, black soul. His remaining eye gleamed with the joy of slaughter. His long, flowing hair was an unnatural blood-red, almost as if it had been dyed with the blood of his victims, and he had a thick, bushy beard of the same color. A four-foot, murderous looking cutlass with a serrated front edge, of the same material as his armor, was in his other hand, still dripping blood from the innocents it had recently slain. His grip around my neck tightened as I struggled, enraged and choking. "What's this? Some whelp who thinks he can face me? Foolish boy. You can't---" He stopped abruptly in mid-speech, noticing the gleaming golden weapon in my hand. "Oh. It's you," he stated matter-of-factly, as if somehow expecting me. Suddenly, I was awash in a feeling of warmth, and... power? A voice boomed within my head, though not painfully, as had Sikunare's, and time froze as my vision went white with a blinding light. MY SON, IT IS TIME. I, THE UNCONQUERED SUN, KING OF ALL GODS, CHOOSE YOU FOR THE LIGHT. I BESTOW UPON YOU THE DARK GRACE AND POWER OF MY FIRST SHADOW. YOU SHALL SERVE AS PROTECTOR OF GOOD AND RIGHT, AND YOU SHALL TEACH EVIL TO JUMP AT ITS OWN SHADOW. YOU SHALL BECOME THE UNCONTESTED RULER OF THE NIGHT, AS YOUR PREDECESSOR WAS BEFORE YOU. AID HER MASTER, AND THE WAY SHALL BE MADE CLEAR. SEEK HER TOMB, AND YOUR POWER SHALL GROW. MASTER HER ART, AND YOU SHALL BE UNSTOPPABLE. GO NOW, MY SON, FOR EVIL HAS YOU IN ITS VERY GRASP. THE LIGHT BE YOUR GUIDE, THE NIGHT BE YOUR KINGDOM, THE SHADOWS BE YOUR VERY BODY, UNTIL EVIL BREATHES ITS LAST. As my vision returned, time marched on once more. Feeling the power of the Unconquered Sun coursing through me, I looked into Scourge's single eye, smiled, and disappeared. The Shadow of Death Over the next several hours, I systematically killed each and every marauder on my island. At first none of them even noticed they were falling dead left and right, with all the chaos. Eventually, they began to realize something was very wrong, and began to get nervous. After I dispatched about twenty more, they started to panic. When there were only thirty or so left running for the safety of their ship, I leapt into their midst and slayed them all in a blur of chains and blades that took about fifteen seconds. As I killed the last one at the very edge of the treeline, I looked up and saw the Scourge's ship sailing away, and him standing at the prow, holding my unconscious mother aloft by the ankle and cackling triumphantly. Cursing myself for not having dealt with him before he escaped with my mother, and vowing to kill him and Sikunare personally and rescue my mother, I headed back to the village to search for survivors. I told them it was safe to come out, and they did so, hesitantly, as unsure of me as anything, having seen everything that had happened. We stood and surveyed the ruins of our once proud village, countless dead bodies strewn amongst the smoldering wreckage. Some were our own men, many more were the filthy bandits I had just slain. I turned to the remains of my fellow tribe and said, "There is much to rebuild. Let's get started." One frightened woman spoke up, "But it's not safe here! What if they return?" "They will not," I replied simply. "It was me they were after. I see that now. I must take my gift and leave this village, and use the Unconquered Sun's blessing to slay those who do evil. Perhaps one day I will return, but for now, let us rebuild. I must be off soon." While organizing the restoration of the village, I discovered the ruins of Darius' Hut. As I searched the remains, I came across another fantastic weapon of his that I had never seen before, a two foot long sai, made of the same golden metal as my bladed chain, constructed to look like finger bones. I reached to pick it up, and as my fingertips made contact with it, I was struck by a vision of a beautiful woman with long flowing hair, as black as night. She wore a sarcastic smirk on her face as she spun and lunged gracefully, dispatching foes left and right on a teeming battlefield. In her right hand was my bladed chain, in the left was the weapon I had just found. When I came to, I knew that the woman I saw must have been my predecessor, and these were her weapons, the very same weapons I was now destined to wield against the very same foes. I picked it up and hefted its weight. It felt good. It felt right. I practiced a few parries and lunges. These were indeed my weapons. My destiny was now clearer than ever. "Thank you, Unconquered Sun. I will become the King of the Night you intend me to be." Once the village reconstruction was underway and the elder had things back under control, I went and buried Darius on the beach where he fell, erecting a stone tablet to mark the grave and holding a short funeral with the rest of the village. I decided then and there that I would take the name Stormslayer, in honor of my fallen mentor. I would make the forces of evil fear the name, fear even uttering the name for fear of attracting my deadly attentions. I would make them pay. The Black Band Amnesia That night, I went to sleep on the beach by Darius' grave. I remember staring up at the stars, thinking for hours about such things as whether or not the Stars had chosen ones, or whether they were even gods, why I had been chosen, what the Unconquered Sun looked like in person, whether or not he had a sense of humor, or if gods even had such primitive things as humor, what the Unconquered Sun had meant by his first shadow, and how Darius came to have my predecessor's weapons. But mostly I wondered whether or not my mother was still alive. I wondered what was to become of me now. Little did I know that when I woke up, I would be wondering instead what HAD become of me. The Phantom Rude Awakening I awoke floating on my back in the middle of the ocean, the midday sun glaring down upon me, as if it were chastising me for sleeping so late in the day. I had absolutely no recollection of how I got here. And I felt, wrong, somehow. Or not wrong, so much as very different. I looked at myself. My hands looked older, more worn. My clothes, the same as my hands, with patches in places I knew there were none last night. I was wearing bracers and shinguards, made of the same golden metal as my weapons, that I had never even seen before. I checked my pockets, and found things that I never knew I had. I still had Darius' Map and my weapons, at least. I noticed, however that I had no money, which was certainly not the case last night. I looked down at myself. I was skinnier and more muscular than I remembered, and I now had a goatee where I had never before had even the faintest wisp of hair. I began to suspect that I had missed quite a lot. Trying desperately to think back, I was rewarded only with vague fuzzy memories of sailing and pirating, but no worthwhile details. It seemed I had joined a legion of noble pirates known as The Black Band. I could sort of remember a few faces, but no names to go with them, and no idea how I even knew them. It did at least occur to me that that golden metal was called orikalcium, or something like that. Needless to say, this was not particularly helpful. I took stock of my surroundings and found nothing but the vast expanse of the ocean. Not helpful. I fished through my pockets again and found a collapsible telescope. I extended it and peered through it. This time, I saw the vast expanse of the ocean, only closer. Great. I took a compass out of my pocket. It appeared to work, the arrow faithfully pointing in the same direction, hopefully that of the imperial mountain. I also had a sextant, which would give me a pretty good idea where I was, in combination with the maps also in my pockets, but that was no good during the day. So it appeared that I had two choices: Start swimming in the direction of the realm and hope for the best, or wait until nightfall and more or less pinpoint my location. I wisely chose the latter. So I lay back and floated, waiting patiently, and hoping I wouldn't have to kill too many hungry sharks to survive. Castaway When the sun finally dipped below the horizon for its nightly slumber and the stars popped out of the blueish-black canvas of the evening sky, winking merrily, I pulled my sextant out and triangulated my position. Turned out I was in the middle of the ocean. Imagine that. At least I could tell that I was somewhere southeast of Coral. With no better ideas, I swam northwest, using my compass to ensure my heading remained true. I swam. And swam. And swam. But, sure enough, after about eight hours of solid Solar swimming, I saw land in the extreme distance, a little south of where I was headed. Elated, I altered my course and swam like a madman. After four more hours of swimming, the land had only gotten slightly closer. But, I could at least tell that it was a lone island, thickly forested, and rather small. A little crestfallen at its apparent remoteness, I swam on anyway, figuring at the absolute worst, I'd simply build a raft with the abundance of timber there. By the time I began to near the island, I was beat. Even for a chosen of the Unconquered Sun. But I swam on, knowing that the sooner I got there, the sooner I could dry out and take a well-deserved nap. Unfortunately, certain sea-borne creatures in the area smelled my fatigue, and were devising other plans. I felt something very large bump my leg. I stopped swimming. Sighing, I pulled out my chain daiklave. I noticed off-handedly that it fit in my hands better than it used to, as if its constant use had worn grooves in my hand specifically for it. I wondered again how much time I had lost. No matter, there were more important things to deal with. It was a shame that I was going to have to kill the shark. I liked animals, all animals, even sharks. They were just so easy for me to understand. They were just so carefree. They wanted very few things out of life, and never tried to make anyone else's life harder, unless, of course, YOU were what they wanted. But that was rarely the case. Here, however, it was, and I was going to have to think fast very soon. Fortunately, fast was my middle name. Or would be, if Tsunamians had anything more than simply a first name. ¡¡¡UNDER CONSTRUCTION!!! Category:Sunlight on the Water Category:Dax Stormslayer